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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

No matter what the season, except maybe the dead of winter, a kitchen always ended up boiling hot. Orin wiped the sweat that was rolling down his brow on his sleeve. Perhaps it wasn’t the most polite gesture, but no one was watching him back here. Besides, it was better than being blinded by salty water. In any case, his sleeves were already riddled with damp patches, which darkened his shirt.

Despite the heat, he loved it in here. For too long he’d been without the comfort that cooking brought him. While his psyche still bore the cracks of severing his bond and his complete loss of friends and companions after he lost Syliras, he could feel his mental walls get shored up, a little bit at a time, each time he came in to work.

He was lucky, he supposed, having a job that he actually loved to do. While he didn’t interact with others all that much, many seemed to be dissatisfied with their chosen professions, and that had always baffled Orin. He didn’t see why they didn’t just change jobs if that was the case. While it might not be quite that simple, Orin didn’t think that it was impossible. It was also infinitely preferable to being stuck in a life that one hated.

So Orin simply was content with his current situation. Sure, things could be improved, but he wasn’t motivated enough to do anything about it right now. Besides, he still felt he was getting established in the city. Beyond that, his mental wounds were healing very slowly. While he probably should be seeking more help than he did, opening up about his emotions wasn’t something that would ever come easy to him. So instead, he toiled away here, day in day out, and occasionally visited the Azurite Watchtower when his stresses and burdens grew too heavy to bear. His faith in Priskil had been a beacon in his darkest days. After meeting Kimbri, one of Priskil’s disciples here in Riverfall, Orin had been trying to both learn more about the goddess while at the same time recover from his traumatic past.

Some days were better than others. Regardless of his mood, though, Orin found that he could lose himself in his work, and it would sooth his spirits. Today was no exception. He was currently in the pantry, filling one of The Almond Blossom’s baskets with an assortment of greens, including spinach, cabbage, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, and leeks. When he had everything he was searching for, made easy by the incredibly organized shelves, he left the pantry, blinking slightly in the brighter light of the main kitchen.

Dolmar was hard at work at the opposite end, by one of The Almond Blossom’s ovens. The delicious scents of baking bread and roasting meat filled the air. Orin smiled, but they were familiar to him and he didn’t notice them consciously. Instead, they wafted around him and settled his nerves. Stopping by their herb station, Orin picked a few leaves from the still thriving parsley plant, making sure only to get the fully-grown ones. He added those to the top of his basket, and then strode over to his workstation. Picking up the knife he’d left there earlier, he started pulling the various greens he’d collected and laying them out.

He was about to start slicing them up into chunks when Dolmar let out a startled noise, one that Orin had never heard before. Even though the giant Akalak was more than capable of taking care of anything and everything, Orin was still shocked enough at the other chef’s exclamation that he whirled around. And before him was something that his brain was having trouble processing. All he could think was, ’well that’s not something you see every day.’

Last edited by Orin Fenix on July 8th, 2017, 1:29 pm, edited 1 time in total.

The teenage (at least, in a Jamouran's perspective) Jamoura had been in Riverfall for only a few days, and he was absolutely amazed. Where the Spires had nearly everything made from the trees that grew around them, this place was made from.... Well, cut trees and rocks. At least, that's what he thought they were made from. Architecture, at least this sort, was a complete mystery to him. He'd spent half a day staring at a building trying to figure out just how the Akalak had made them.

And wow, the Akalak. They were such a colorful race - literally. So far, he'd seen multiple blues, reds, greens, and purples. He had frequently wondered if that was the extent of their colors, and if they were able to change like he was when wanted. He couldn't begin to imagine how trippy it would be to see a gigantic man changing colors at will - even if he was used to changing his own fur and others changing theirs.

That's how it was in the Spires, anyway. There, he could easily become camouflaged in trees, bushes, and all other parts of nature. Here.... He could do it, but it was nowhere near effective. It was like being in Riverfall had broken his ability; he hoped it was only temporary, otherwise he'd be a very sad Jamoura. For a bit.

This particular day, the seven and a half feet of pacifist beast was merely knuckle-walking through the great city, his large backpack strapped to his back. He was wearing his flowing green trousers and equally colored shirt, as he'd been told it was like an unspoken law to be covered up. Nevertheless, he sort of hated the clothing he'd been giving. While it fit just fine....

It itched.

Stopping his long, four-limbed strides, he looked around, sniffing. While the smell had been slightly noticeable throughout the entire city, now it was overpowering, as if it was closer than ever before. He had no clue what the smell, and he couldn't even begin to describe it. It wasn't unpleasant, just..... Weird. Very weird.

Almost in a trance, he stood up on his two bottom hands, looking around and smelling even more. It was easy enough to look around at the various buildings from his vantage; even at 160, he stood inches taller than the tallest of Akalak, and was only liable to grow taller, if his growing pains were any indication.

With a weirdly swaying stride, he slowly walked in the direction of the smell, the crowd parting around him easily enough. That was a good thing about being so big, he thought. The people automatically moved out of your way.

He drew closer until the smell was eye-watering powerful, and his eyes did indeed water slightly. It was coming from a pretty sort of building. Ever the curious one, he fell onto his knuckles again, taking a chin-scratching moment to remember how to open a door before doing so and walking in.

As he figured was the way the people of Riverfall greeted each other, he returned the surprised stares and gaped mouths as he walked past the few people. The thought of being allowed or not never crossed his mind as he made his way into the kitchens, uninterrupted as he knuckle-walked.

There were two men here, one human and an Akalak, surrounded by meat, plants, and different bits of sharp items. They seemed to be.... He didn't even know, but definitely not eating them.

The Jamoura merely stared for a second, his face screwed up in utter confusion; just what what were they doing? He had no clue, and he had absolutely every intention of finding it.

With a voice deeper and slower than what any other race should've been able to produce, he simply asked what he was wondering, looking to the human. "What are you doing?"

Riverfall was very different from Syliras. There had been more than a few odd sights around the city. Orin was almost growing used to the myriad skin tones of the Akalaks, and some of the strange oddities of the other races that passed through the port. The architecture and the culture of the city were completely different from Orin’s upbringing. While some of it was familiar, everything had at least some exotic touch.

This moment, however, took the cake. It took Orin a few ticks to process exactly what he was seeing. While each individual part registered, somehow the whole picture refused to coalesce. There were green pants and a shirt and a backpack. There was a humanoid figure, covered in dark brown fur. Patches of white, rather leathery skin poked out here and there, particular around its face, which was centered on two pale blue eyes. The figure was huge, looming over even Dolmar, who wasn’t small by any standard, even Akalak one’s. The other chef had gotten between Orin and the intruder, for which Orin was inordinately relieved, since the creature appeared to be staring at him.

And then it spoke, and Orin’s knees almost gave out. ’It’s…intelligent?’ It had a deep, resonant voice, and while Orin pegged it as male, for all he knew the race all sounded like that. It took him another tick to realize that he’d been the object of the other’s attention. “Me?” he squeaked out, although it came out closer to a high-pitched noise than any discernable speech.

In order to steady his nerves and his shaking hands, he picked up his knife and starting slicing the vegetables before him into chunks. Immediately the familiar motion calmed him down. It also reminded Orin that he was in charge in the kitchen. Well, technically, Dolmar was the head chef, but other than Dolmar and Korana, he had absolute authority. That chased away the rest of the butterflies in his stomach and eased his shoulders down.

Setting the knife down, Orin turned to face the interloper. “Dolmar, I’ll handle this.” The Akalak nodded, and retreated back to where he’d been working, keeping one careful eye on the situation. For his part, Orin crossed his arms and frowned. “Welcome to the Almond Blossom, Riverfall’s premiere tea house and eatery.” Gesturing at the door their unexpected guest had taken, Orin continued with, “Typically, customers remain in the front. If you have a question for the chefs, well, you found us.” This last part dripped with annoyance. They didn’t have time to spare on this. While their patrons did tend to linger over their meals, that didn’t mean that Orin and Dolmar could afford to take many breaks. In fact, Orin shuddered internally to think of how the Akalak had handled this kitchen without help.

Realizing that he’d never actually answered the initial inquiry, Orin sighed and turned down the hostility a bit. As he cooled off, Dolmar nodded at the newcomer. “The Almond Blossom is always pleased to host a visiting Jamoura.” The Akalak spoke in a genial tone, shooting Orin a glance that told him to be polite.

Apparently, Orin had misread the situation. Dolmar seemed fine with the intrusion. Orin bit his lower lip. While it may have been unwelcome, the Almond Blossom had a reputation to uphold in terms of customer service. If that meant the human cook had to take a few chimes to soothe a customer’s ruffled feathers, so be it. “My name is Orin Fenix. I’m one of the chefs here. The other would be Dolmar.” Orin indicated the Akalak, who briefly waved.

Settling back on his heels, Orin tried to figure out how best to proceed. He was honestly shocked that Korana hadn’t thrown this person out of the establishment yet. Maybe the sheer size of the guest had deterred any efforts to prevent him from roaming around. “This is our kitchen, where we work, cooking all of the food. Once it’s done, we serve it to the patrons in the other room.” Figuring that was about as thorough an answer as could be hoped for, he cocked his head at the figure before him, that Dolmar had referred to as a Jamoura. “Is there anything else I can help you with.”

Nash could tell instantly that both of the working men were very much surprised by his appearance; moreso than necessary, honestly. The teen really didn't care, though; he just wanted to know what was going on back here, where that smell had obviously been coming from.

As patient as ever, Nash sat back onto his rear, his knees going to his chest and his hands resting on his knees. He just sat and watched the two go about their surprise, head cocked slightly yet unmoving after he sat into a comfortable position. He briefly wondered if they were going to take long with all of it, but then, he really didn't care; he'd wait as long as needed for an answer to his inquiry.

When the human fellow said some bit, his face rearranged to convey his confusion. He couldn't quite hear what he'd said, and was aiming to tell him, when the human turned and started chopping plants with a knife. The change in demeanor was so obvious and instantaneous that both of Nash's eyebrows raised in surprise. With an almost easy, practiced motion, he removed his backpack, taking his journal, a quill, and a vial of ink out within seconds and flipping to an empty page. He scribbled out something really quick, staring intently at his paper as he wrote, occasionally glancing up at the man.

Human WorkerWas very surprised by my appearance, and so began chopping food to calm himself.

Satisfied with this new, small addition, he set his journal and quill down, his hands moving back to his upraised knees and waiting longer. The Akalak, now dubbed Dolmar, moved back at the words of the other. Yet another thing he just HAD to add to his journal in his uniquely small, scribbling text.

His gaze fell back onto the human, peering intently as the human crossed his arms and began speaking. The tea house and eatery, as it was labeled, had a pleasant name; the Almond Blossom. Nash quickly figured he very much liked it, especially since it served tea. Quickly adding a note (Almond Blossom: Tea), he nodded along slowly as the man spoke. So they were 'chefs'. From the looks of it, they seemed to just prepare the food for eating, instead of getting it from a bowl or just a tree and eating. (Yet another note. Sheffs prepare food in Riverfall.)

He smiled to the Akalak as he spoke, turning back to the human, now named Orin Fenix. An interesting name, just as Dolmar's was; so different as well. And a lot more different than his own.

He nodded thoughtfully as the chef finished, rumbling in thought. So. Cooking.... Being a vegetarian, he's never really seen this 'cooking' in action; he just picked fruits and vegetables and ate them. "Can you show me what cooking is?" He tilted his head curiously yet again, awaiting an answer to his newest question.

The Jamoura, if what Dolmar had said was actually the creature’s race and not some sort of weird title, continued to act in a way that was completely baffling to Orin. Instead of replying to the human cook’s in any coherent sense, the enormous person – because clearly, despite the differences in physiologies, this was a sentient being – was simply observing everything that Orin was doing. Orin got even more confused when the Jamoura pulled off his bag, took out a notebook and quill, and started writing.

At least the beast didn’t seem offended at anything that Orin had said. Dolmar, for his part, had gotten back to work. Then again, the Akalak chef had been in the middle of preparing the Almond Blossom’s poultry dish, and hadn’t really been able to take time away from it. If it didn’t get cooking soon enough, it wouldn’t be ready for later. Orin’s current dish wasn’t quite as time sensitive, which left Orin with the increasingly unenviable task of dealing with the stranger in the kitchen.

The Jamoura spoke again, and it startled Orin. The chef narrowed his eyes at the brown-furred intruder. Under normal circumstances he’d be more than happy to teach a cooking lesson to anyone who wandered into a kitchen where Orin was working. Dolmar similarly welcomed new talent and upcoming cooks, honing their skills. While Orin hadn’t needed the Akalaks tutelage in his actually skills, Dolmar had expanded Orin’s repertoire of available recipes and elevated Orin’s cooking to a fine degree.

This, situation, though, was about as far as it was possible to get from normal. Orin sighed, thinking about it. Clearly, Dolmar didn’t find the Jamoura’s presence in the kitchen to be problematic. Just as clearly, this wasn’t an everyday occurrence, or at least Dolmar had some more knowledge than Orin did about what, exactly was going on. Normally Orin would just ask the Akalak, but the human cook didn’t want to appear ignorant of what might be a Riverfall custom or tradition of some kind, especially in front of a stranger.

All in all, he didn’t have many options yet. So, meeting the Jamoura’s eyes, Orin nodded. “Alright I’ll make you a deal.” Tensing, Orin glance surreptitiously at Dolmar, but the older chef didn’t seem to be looking their way. “I’d be happy to show you the ropes. I’d even be happy to let you help out a bit if you’re looking to hone your skills.” He held up a hand to forestall any response that the Jamoura might have had. “But before we do that, I’m going to need a few things from you. First off all, I need your name.” Chuckling, Orin continued, “After all, I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘the Jamoura,’ especially because I don’t even know what a Jamoura is.”

Hopefully the Jamoura would understand that Orin was laughing at the situation. Orin definitely didn’t want to antagonize anyone who outweighed him by an order of magnitude. ’Priskil preserve me, he prayed fervently, hoping the goddess might intervene in a sticky situation. “Secondly, I want to know what brought you here and what and what you’re hoping to accomplish.” Orin gestured at the kitchen to indicate what he was referring to.

Struck by a sudden inspiration, he added, “After all, I’ll be able to help you much more efficiently if you tell me exactly what you’re hoping to get out of this exchange.” The human had discovered over the years that if he coached his requests in ways that made it seem like he was making their lives easier, then they were much more likely to go along with them. Hopefully that would hold true for the Jamoura. And hopefully he’d be able to get back to work sooner rather than later. The Almond Blososm really couldn’t afford distraction of this sort. While their clientele was fine with a leisurely dining experience, the food had to come out eventually.

When the Jamoura was not immediately forthcoming as to what, exactly the new arrival was doing in Orin’s kitchen, opting instead to study Orin with a strange curiosity and intensity, Orin decided that he should simply go about his normal tasks, and hope that whatever the Jamoura was looking for would happen. “Well, feel free to follow me and observe. Just, be careful. There are a lot of sharp objects and quite a few things that will burn you if you touch them. And stand back from anyone trying to get past you.” Orin couldn’t think of any other warnings, so he went back to the basket of vegetables he’d been dealing with earlier. Finally taking up his knife, Orin chopped them up, not as finely as he could, since these were supposed to go into a stew, and people wanted it to be hearty, even at The Almond Blossom.

Once the vegetables were washed, peele, and chopped, Orin got out a pot and some vegetable broth. He poured in the broth, and then threw the vegetables in the pan, except for some larger pieces of onions, the mushrooms, and the tomatoes which he set-aside for now. The pan went placed on the stove. The mixture was sautéed for a few chimes, until Orin felt confident the vegetables had been cooked enough for now. Then, Orin added in the onions, stirring the mixture as well to redistribute the heat equally. The broth was getting low at this point, so Orin added a splash more. Once the onions had sufficiently softened, Orin tossed the mushrooms in. This he cooked for another few chimes.

After the mushrooms, it was time for some seasoning. Orin added in some rosemary, as well as salt and pepper. All would improve the flavors of the dish, elevating it above a mere vegetable stew and adding subtle hints to the dish that the refined palettes of the patrons of The Almond Blossom would enjoy. Next Orin added yet another secret ingredient that The Almond Blossom liked to employ, adding a small, but significant amount of red wine to the stew. After a few more chimes, he followed this up with the rest of the vegetable broth, as well as the tomatoes, then put the pot, full of liquid, on a hotter part of the stove. As it was coming to a boil, Orin retrieved some peas, carrots, and potatoes, which Dolmar had been kind enough to prepare as Orin was stuck dealing with the Jamoura. Orin nodded a thank you to the Akalak chef, who nodded back. After putting the carrots and potatoes into with the rest of the ingredient, Orin also added a splash of balsamic vinegar as well as more salt and pepper. Finally, the pot came to a boil, and Orin slid it to down to a simmer, at which point he added the final ingredient, peas. Waiting patiently, Orin turned to speak with the Jamoura. “So, that was a vegetable stew I just made. I hope that helps you. It should be done relatively soon.” And sure enough, it was soon ready to be served. Orin started pouring it into bowls, adding a few sprinkles of parsley on top as a garnish. The visual appearance of the dish was just as important in The Almond Blossom as the actual taste. Stepping back, Orin surveyed his work. Satisfied that all seemed well, Orin indicated to Dolmar that the stew was ready to serve.

Orin: Recovering from the broken bondOrin: Finds solace in cookingOrin: Doesn’t easily open up about his emotionsRiverfall location: The Azurite WatchtowerPriskil: Orin’s beacon in darker daysRiverfall: An exotic place to a SyliranLeadership: Taking charge of an unexpected situationJamoura: A race of intelligent apesInterrogation: Asking blunt questions to get at motivesLeadership: Setting clear boundaries & expectationsCooking: Dicing chunky vegetables for a hearty stewCooking: Stir to redistribute heat evenlyCooking: Add red wine to vegetable stew to flavourCooking: Seasoning vegetable stewTeaching: By visual demonstrationCooking: Adding ingredients at differing cooking times

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